


Looking Down From Skyscrapers

by ConflictingOpinions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: College Student Sam, Gen, History Teacher Castiel, I Made A Thing, Look guys, Mechanic Dean, Might be some Sam/Jess later though, Not a ship fic, Sassy Sam, Superhero Team Free Will, They have superpowers, With an actual plot, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConflictingOpinions/pseuds/ConflictingOpinions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean Winchester didn't expect to develop powers. They didn't expect to join the world of Supers. They didn't expect to be given a Hero's License. They didn't expect to become one of the best-known crime-fighting team this side of the Rockies. And they most certainly did not expect to end up rooming with Castiel, an Angel-turned-Hero whose success rate rivals their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nasty Little Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> So I won't be getting right into the plot these first few chapters; they're mainly going to be setup and character introductions, but there are a few things you should know and keep in mind about this 'verse, which are as follows:  
> Superheroes are a semi-common thing here, to the point where a license is required to get recognition in the papers. There is all the goodness of your typical superhero stories (evil geniuses, robots, the occasional alien), but all the supernatural creatures that we know and love/despise, including angels and demons, exist as well. While encounters with said beings/creatures are considered rare, their existence is known to the public.
> 
> There we go, that's the basic information of the 'verse, I hope you enjoy the story. Please review; I love to hear your opinions and critiques so long as your reasonably polite about it. :)

Sam was never supposed to be a hero. He always thought that if anyone in the Winchester family got powers, it would be Dean. While Sam's crippling self-doubt probably had something to do with this outlook, there was also the fact that Dean was for the most part the good son, the one all the girls (and some guys) payed attention to, the guy Sam wished he could be like just so he wouldn't feel so inadequate, so alone even when he was in a crowd.

But all the best heroes feel like they don't belong. That's part of what makes them heroes.

~o0o~

When Sam was thirteen, he was a Freshman at Lawrence High School (he was a bright kid). When Sam was thirteen, his father and only remaining parent, John Winchester, was killed in a car crash. When Sam was thirteen, he had nightmares about it for a week. Before the crash ever happened.

He didn't tell John.

He didn't tell Dean.

He didn't tell anyone.

Sam thought he was going crazy. Legit, psychotic, put-him-in-a-straight-jacket, toss-him-in-a-padded-room-and-throw-away-the-key crazy. But he still didn't tell anyone. He had inherited enough of the Winchester Stubborn Streak for several generations.

By the time Dean finally found out about his little brother's “abilities”, Sam had been having premonitions for months.

~o0o~

When it happened, Dean (with a little help from Bobby Singer, who had taken them in), had just finished fixing his dad's Impala the day before. That evening, he had told Sam he was going to test the Impala the next day. “Just to make sure she's running smoothly and all the kinks are worked out. Wanna come with, or are you just gonna stay here with your nose in a book all day?” he'd said. Sam told him he preferred books and a comfy chair to obnoxious music and leather seats his legs stuck out awkwardly from because he was too short.

Dean called him Bitch. Sam called him Jerk. Dean smirked and slapped Sam on the back. They both ran into the kitchen when Bobby called them in for supper, and ate like the growing boys they were. Bobby listened to them bicker, calling them Idjits at all the appropriate times. It was a good day, a normal day. Sam hadn't had any premonitions for a week, though Dean and Bobby didn't know that. But he had one that night.

~o0o~

_It was 8:54 and Dean was driving the Impala. He was on a familiar gravel road. Sam knew it, Dean knew it. It was safe. Dean was safe. He was a good driver and people rarely drove on this road aside from the Winchesters. It was safe. Dean was safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. But why didn't it feel that way?_

_Dean came around the big bend in the road, hugged the curve of it, drove slow. Slow. Slow. Slow. He was okay. He was okay. And then he wasn't. Gravel crunched up ahead, sounded too much like breaking bones. Dean swerved. Then there was glass shattering, the screech of metal on metal, gravel spraying all directions, smoke in the air, bones breaking for real, and blood blood blood. It was everywhere. On the seats, the road, the jagged remains of the windows, spurting from Dean's mouth and filling his lungs. Lungs that weren't breathing._

~o0o~

Sam woke quickly, but it felt too slow. He didn't scream, didn't lunge forward. He just disentangled himself from his sweat-soaked sheets and raked his shaking fingers through his hair. Sometimes it frightened him how calmly he woke from these dreams. He glanced over at the digital clock next to his bed. The glowing red numbers proclaimed it to be 8:37. Now Sam lunged forward. Then out of his room and down the stairs and into the living room. Dean would be leaving soon.

“Whoa, Sammy, where's the fire?” Dean asked as Sam rushed to his side. He was reaching for the Impala's keys.

“Dean, don't go!” Sam made a grab for the keys. Dean yanked them out of reach.

“Dude, why not? It's just a test drive. I already ran the engine, and there was a minimum of fireballs, okay? What are you so freaked out about?”

“It's not the car I'm worried about, Dean...”

“Is there some sort of rule in the Little Brother Handbook about never giving your brother a straight answer? What's eatin' ya?”

Sam made another grab at the keys, but Dean held them up higher. Damn his short legs. “Look, Dean, if you wanna go out, fine, but just stay off the gravel road, okay? You...A...It's been raining and there are potholes! You might get stuck!” Sam was honestly a little proud of that lie. It was quite believable, and Dean seemed to buy it, but it didn't change his mind.

“Sammy, I don't give a crap about the potholes, okay? Plus, the gravel road is the only one I can drive on. I don't have my license yet, remember?”

“Since when-”

“Since Dad, Sammy. Since Dad. I'll be damned if I end up like the kid that hit him. Now I'm going out for a test drive, and if that's a problem, I dunno what to tell ya.” Sam's head hurt. Dean walked into the hall and towards the door, ignoring Sam's voice calling him back. Sam was in the hall now. Dean was opening the door. No. Nonononono.

The door yanked itself out of Dean's grasp and slammed shut. Sam's head felt like it was being split open. His vision was starting to blur. “The hell was that?” Dean asked no one in particular, though he looked in Sam's direction. As if he had an answer. Dean reached for the door again, but the deadbolt slid into place. Sam's ears popped.

When Dean went for the door a third time, his keys were snatched out of his hands by some unseen force. They didn't hit the ground; just flew around in the air in no particular pattern. Sam's nose started to bleed. Then all hell broke loose.

Pictures flew off the walls, the flowers on the hall table ignited as their vase crunched in on itself. The stairs buckled and the paint peeled and the windows shattered. The television and radio flickered to life, changing stations frantically. The whole house shook. Down to the floors, the foundation, the bedrock, the layers and layers of limestone where so many things had died, one on top of the other. Sam curled up on the floor, shaking, covering his ears, blood from his nose seeping into his shirt, feeling like someone had taken a jackhammer to his skull. The last thing he saw was Dean's pale, pale face as his brother scooped him up from the ground.

~o0o~

Sam's eyes were dry and stinging when he opened them. His head felt muzzy and he could smell his own dried blood, could feel it cracking when he winced. He tried to sit up, only to be pushed down by someone's hand. His shirt felt stiff and scratchy against his chest. Sam looked up.

Dean was staring down at Sam, his face an odd mix of worry and fear. “Dean, what the hell happened?” Sam asked, levering himself up when his brother removed his hand.

“What are you referring to? If it's how you ended up in bed, it's 'cos you had a friggin' seizure and I carried you up here,” Dean said. “If it's the freaky shit that went down in the hallway, I think _you_ oughta be the one explaining it to _me_.”

Sam remained silent. He stared down at his blood-spattered shirt. He couldn't explain what happened any better than Dean could.

“Look Sammy, I'm not pissed at you,” Dean said, “Well, no, I _am_ , but it's not 'cos you've got powers, it's 'cos... I mean... Dammit, Sam, you can move things with your mind and you didn't tell me! Why the hell didn't you tell me?”

“Because that never happened before Dean, okay?!” Sam still didn't look up. “Before, all that happened was premonitions, and only a couple were actually important. And don't give me any of that crap about how I coulda told you. Cause if I had you would've thought I was just having some sort of weird PTSD because of dad dying, and then you would've sent me to a therapist or something, and that's the last thing I need or want!”

Dean sighed. “When did the...the premonitions start?”

“The week before Dad died. I dreamed about the crash every night. I thought I was losing my mind. The stress from school, you know? I guess I was wrong.”

“And downstairs, when you didn't want me to leave, that was because...?”

“Because I saw you die last night.” Sam didn't say anything else. He didn't want to relive the death of his brother, even if it hadn't really happened. The brothers sat in silence for a little while.

“Dude...,” Dean smirked, “You realize what this means right?”

“Oh no. No, Dean don't!”

“Aw c'mon Sammy! You're a Super! My baby brother's a Super! Ha, who'da thunk it?”

“Well you certainly aren't going to for long if you keep on saying it for the whole world to hear!” Sam was smiling along with Dean now.

“Saying? Nah, I'm gonna be screaming it from mountaintops!”

“You wouldn't dare!”

“Oh yes I would!”

Sam tossed one of his pillows at Dean's face. Dean gave him a look that said “This means war,” laughing while he did it. Within seconds, the brothers were having a pillow fight like they hadn't had in years. By the end of it they were laying on the floor in a fit of laughter, picking feathers from their hair. The blood on Sam's shirt and cleaning the wreckage downstairs before Bobby got home were the last things on their minds.

 


	2. Protecting the Bees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize it taking so long to update this, but school has been pretty hectic, and takes precedence over recreation. You know how it is. Anyway, here's chapter 2. I hope you enjoy it. :)

James Novak, or Jimmy, as he preferred to be called, was not a morning person. It was mainly the waking up part that he didn't enjoy though, the rest was okay. Luckily for him, there was a coffee shop on the way to Palo Alto High School. The baristas knew him well, and his order (16 ounce coffee, extra hot, black, two sugars) even better. So well, in fact, that when he shuffled in with his eyes half closed, said coffee would already be waiting for him. Today was no different, and he was soon on his way to the school in his Smart Car once more.

Jimmy arrived in his classroom half an hour before the bell, just like always, and proceeded to boot up his computer and prepare the day's lesson plan (the rise and fall of Mesopotamia). When he went down to the office to pick up his mail, he had a very nice conversation with the school's technician, Ms. Bradbury, who was hoping to finish her rounds early today and take her girlfriend to a convention for the weekend. Jimmy had forgotten that it was a Friday.

He headed back up to his classroom and sat quietly for the remaining eight minutes, sipping his coffee. It really was quite delicious. The bell rang, and twenty-something familiar faces began to enter, all in varying states of awakening. Jimmy understood them very well. Unfortunately, he was not paid for being sympathetic. He could have been, if he'd chosen the profession of a therapist, but he did not believe he had the right personality for such a thing. Luckily, he made an excellent teacher, and so nobody complained when he launched into one of his tirades about the inaccuracies of the textbooks and documentaries he was supplied with less than ten minutes into his lesson.

~o0o~

The rest of the day wasn't quite so eventful. He taught three more classes, ate lunch, wrote a letter of recommendation for a former student during his planning period, taught one last class, and packed up to leave. He was about halfway back to his apartment when he remembered once again that it was Friday, and that he needed to pick up groceries. Muttering angrily at himself, he pulled a u-turn that he sincerely hoped was legal. He assumed that it was when no police cars started chasing him.

At the store he picked up orange juice, milk, bread, apples, and a smaller bottle of multivitamins. He'd gotten a very large bottle of them last time, and they had gone bad before he'd finished half of it. If a rogue chocolate bar somehow wound up in his basket, he couldn't be held accountable for it.

When Jimmy arrived home, he kicked off his shoes and changed into his pajamas. He made himself a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner, and sat down on his couch to eat. He didn't normally sit on the couch; he much preferred to sit at a table, because it wasn't quite so heathen-like. But there was a documentary on bees on PBS tonight, and he really did want to watch it. He rather liked bees.

~o0o~

James Novak did not exist. Oh, sure, he could be seen at the coffee shop every morning and the grocery store every week. And yes, he was a very courteous conversational partner. But while he _did_ teach World History at the Palo Alto High School, and he _did_ own a suitable apartment several blocks away, and he _was_ in possession of an environmentally friendly car to get to all of these places, Jimmy did not exist.

The mild-mannered, personable, slightly neurotic man, though much loved by his students and fellow teachers alike, was simply a figment of an Angel's imagination.

Said Angel went by the name of Castiel, and he _did_ exist. And unlike Jimmy, he was not mild-mannered, he was not personable, he was not neurotic. He did not teach World History, or own an apartment, or an environmentally friendly automobile. He was not a courteous conversational partner, because he did not have conversations. He was rarely seen, and when he was, it was never anywhere near a coffee shop or grocery store. The only people who ever really saw him were his opponents, and oftentimes they did not survive the experience.

~o0o~

Castiel was not pleased in the slightest. Nothing big had come up, and so he was required to patrol the streets, on the watch for petty crime. He was never happy when that occurred. Not because he arrogantly thought that it was beneath him like so many Heroes seemed to; that wasn't it at all. It was because despite the fact that the people he apprehended on these nights were never recognized as a threat, or even truly evil in the papers like his self-proclaimed nemeses, they were often even worse.

Rapists, murderers, drug dealers; the so-called “Supervillains” might have been sick and twisted, but these people were the absolute Scum of the Earth. The only downside to killing them, Castiel thought, was that they would become demons much sooner. That was the sole thing that kept him from stabbing them on sight.

Sometimes Castiel wondered how his Father could have let the world He made fall into such disrepair.

~o0o~

Half-past midnight,and nothing had happened. Castiel supposed that that was a good thing. Obviously he could not yet return home, he'd have to wait for another five minutes for his shift to be over, but every passing minute without incident was a small victory. He was resting on the roof of a bank (very likely for something bad to happen in its vicinity), and was regretting not bringing a book on patrol in the event of boredom. That was when he heard the scream.

It wasn't a very loud scream, and it was cut off almost as soon as it began, but it was enough to get Castiel's attention. He snapped his wings open and leaped of the edge of the building. He went into an autopilot of sorts, receding into his mind and drawing up the memory of the scream, triangulating its location while his wings kept him aloft.

When he found the origin of the scream (twenty-six yards south and on the left side of the street), he took off in its direction. Spotting two figures engaged in some kind of a struggle in a copse of trees in the park, he folded his wings and dropped like a stone just out of sight. From up close he could see exactly what was happening.

A man had a woman pinned to the ground, on hand covering her mouth, the other working at the zipper of his pants. “I dare you to do that again, bitch. Go ahead, scream. I don't need you alive to get what I want,” He growled. The woman remained silent. Castiel looked to her as he advanced on them.

Her hair was tangled and her coat rumpled and her shirt torn open and her slacks rucked down around her knees. She had struggled, but now she was shaking, crying, so angry and so tired and so scared and _please, somebody find me, get him off, helpmehelpmehelpme_! Castiel shut her thoughts out.

“I would like to suggest you get off of her immediately,” He murmured low and dangerous as he stepped out of the shadows. The man looked up, a scowl on his face. Castiel didn't give him a chance to say anything. He drew his blade and spread his wings. The man got off the woman and backed away.

_Live or die, live or die?_ Castiel wondered, flipping his blade casually. _Big decision,demon sooner or later? Live or die, live or die?_ The man took a step back , Castiel took a step forward, glowered down at the sorry excuse for a human. _Live or die?_ He glanced at the woman. She had gotten to her feet and pulled her pants back up. She was backing away from the area, still crying. Castiel decided.

The scum didn't have a chance to scream.

~o0o~

After dropping the man's corpse off in front of the police station, Castiel went home and got into bed. Jimmy Novak awoke the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I don't sound too needy saying this, but reviews and kudos would be really nice. I'm very self-conscious about my writing, and honest but politely expressed opinions really do help me get better.


	3. Starting the Journey

The letter had arrived three days ago. It had been sitting on the kitchenette table for just as long. Sam had refused to open it until Friday. The way he way he saw it, if it only held bad news, why let it ruin his last week of high school? Truth be told, Sam was terrified of what the letter said, whether it was good or bad. Anything from Stanford was a big deal, after all.

“If I didn't get in, life won't change but I won't be happy, but if I _did_ get in, then I'll be happy, but we'll have to move across the country, which puts our secret identities at risk,” was how Sam has explained his hesitance to Dean when he asked. For once Dean had kept his mouth shut. That was a pretty important thing to think about.

After all, the Winchesters had gained a bit of a reputation for themselves in the recent years.

Not under their real names, of course, but it was still _them_ , and that meant they had to be careful. There were a lot of people who would be all too glad to see them dead, and if they moved at any point, for any reason, then their other identities would move as well. If Buck and Scatter disappeared from Kansas and showed up again in California, people would start talking. And if people started talking, there would be trouble. So they had to be smart, they had to be careful.

Of course, that was only if the letter was, in fact, one of acceptance like Dean suspected. But Sam was being a stubborn ass, as always. He had even gone so far as to push the big reveal back to _after patrol_. If Dean hadn't known the kid was an absolute nervous wreck already, he would have made fun of him by now. But he hadn't, because he was a good frickin' brother.

~o0o~

Okay, he'd tried to be nice. It just wasn't working for him. He needed to get his kicks somehow, and Sam was just too _easy_.

“So didja fail?”

“Dude...”

“No, no I'm serious! I need to know! What happened? You have a vision you didn't get in and now you're just puttin' it off,”? Dean – nope, wait, that was his Civie name, gotta be careful bout throwin' those around – Buck nearly fell off the edge of the edge of the building, he was laughing so hard. “Man, that would suck, wouldn't it,” he wheezed.

Scatter threw him Bitch Face #47 ( _I swear I will kill you, family be damned, if you don't shut up right the hell now_ ) like a seasoned pitcher. That just made Buck laugh harder. When he'd finally calmed down, and was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, Scatter spoke up.

“I didn't have any visions, okay? I have no idea whether or not I got in, and I hate not knowing. I just... I just don't want the results to throw me off my game, whatever they are.”

Buck's smile faltered. Yeah, his brother'd always had issues with not knowing something. Course, knowing stuff that he didn't like and not being able to change it tore him up just as bad. Goddamn bleeding heart Sasquatch. The kid was gonna make him soft with those puppy eyes. They'd be talkin' bout their _feelings_ before he knew it.

He took the alternative and gave his brother a good-natured punch in the shoulder. “Well, if you got in, I'll staple that letter to your sixth-grade teacher's face, and if ya didn't, well then Stanford's clearly staffed by idiots, so why'd you wanna go there?” That got him a smile out of Scatter.

The semi-rotted corpse dangling beneath them on the scaffolding started to move. Play time was over. “Do you wanna, or should I?” he asked. Scatter gave a noncommittal shrug, too busy doing his Jedi-type thing to get the demon up. Buck took it that it was his turn.

The black-eyed son of a bitch was up on the rooftop with them now, spewing the usual drivel at them. A curse on you, a curse on your family, a curse on your cow, burn forever in the pits of Hell, I'll torture you personally, blah blah blah. Demons have no originality, zero points for creativity, and would you just shut up dude, goddamn, all passed through Buck's mind, but he didn't say anything, for fear of stray zombie/demon particles finding their way into his mouth. These bastards really were disgusting.

He pulled the knife out of the sheath on his leg, walked towards the demon while Scatter held him in place. The knife began to glow as Buck erased all thoughts from his mind save for one: _kill the demon_. The bastard started to plead. He was dead before his mouth stopped moving.

~o0o~

Sam had gotten in. Of course he had, how could he not? The kid was a genius. Smarter than Dad, smarter than Dean, and Dean knew he was a far cry from an idiot. He was gonna make them a _real_ dinner, on the Fiesta Ware plates, with the good beer and even some vegetables that weren't deep fried. He didn't particularly like that last bit, but hey, if it made Sam happy then it was worth it.

Sam had never been a very happy person.

“You know we're gonna hafta call Bobby in the morning, right? Get him to straighten everything out for us so we can go?” Sam said around a mouthful of the best damn enchiladas that Dean had ever made.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I'll call him in the morning. Don't get your panties in a bunch princess, I'm not gonna screw this up,” was Dean's reply. Sam gave him Bitch Face #17 ( _If I'm the princess then you're the friggin'_ Queen), and Dean laughed. They finished dinner, they ate pie, they watched the original Star Wars trilogy in its entirety.

Sam nodded off halfway through _The Empire Strikes Back_ , and Dean let him sleep for once. Kid deserved it, after all.

~o0o~

They called Bobby the next morning and told him the good news. He was cheering and hollering with such vigor that Dean couldn't resist putting the guy on speaker to embarrass both him _and_ Sam.

“Good job boy. I knew you'd make it. Melon like yours, it'd be weird if ya _didn't_ ,” Bobby said once Dean's laughter had ceased. Sam replied with a sheepish “Thank you,” and then they put Bobby on Skype and got down to business.

There were various reasons that a Hero could move without arousing suspicion. They could be hailed to the city by a Villain, could be offered a partnership with another Hero, could even go to assist with a State of Emergency. But the best way to go, because it was pretty much the only option that wouldn't attract attention or questions, was to get an Order of Relocation from the Men of Letters.

Now that'd be impossible to fake – not that people hadn't tried before – and the odds of actually getting an OR weren't much better. Lucky for them, Bobby was a little bit less of a Civie than he let on. The boys had had a hard time wrapping their heads around the fact that their surrogate father had once been a Man of Letters himself. At the moment, Dean was willing to ignore the weird factor if Bobby could pull some strings and get them an OR.

The whole process was actually a lot more boring than Dean had imagined, though. He'd thought that Bobby'd call the Men of Letters, say some sort of password or maybe his old codename, and he'd be put in contact with the head honcho in under a minute. Instead, Bobby called the Men of Letters, politely requested to speak to the head honcho, and then waited, perfectly calm and patient, while he was put on hold for nearly two hours. Greater men had tried and failed to do that.

Dean finally understood why Bobby had been a part of the Order. The old grump could wait for a cat to blink.

~o0o~

At long last, Bobby hung up. He turned to the boys, who raised their eyebrows expectantly.

“Millie's just sent the OR. You're shipping out Monday. Don't thank me, cause if you do I think I may cry,” he said gruffly, “Don't forget give your old man a hug before ya leave, ya idjits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean's superhero names are derived from Buckshot and Scattershot, because we all know they'd have something to do with guns. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed. As always, comments and kudos alike would be much appreciated; I love feedback. :)


	4. What a Coincidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I swear I haven't given up on/forgotten about this story! I'm so sorry that it has taken me so long to update, but I've been so incredibly busy with school that I haven't had the chance to write anything but essays. :(  
> But, at long last, here is chapter four, I hope you all enjoy!

Sam's legs were cramped. There wasn't anything to do about it, though. He knew better than to put his feet on the dashboard if he wanted them to remain attached to his legs, and the back of the Impala was too packed with cardboard boxes for him to move back there and stretch his legs out. He sighed and shifted a bit to prevent his right leg from falling asleep completely. Their last pit-stop had been nearly three hours ago, and there wouldn't be any more exits for another two and a half.

Sam knew that moving to pretty much the other side of the country wasn't going to be fun, or even easy, but this was just ridiculous. Dean blaring his mullet rock at nearly top volume wasn't helping much, either. Also, he was hungry. Very, very hungry. There were 6 feet and 4 inches of him to keep going, and not enough food in the car to accomplish that. But he couldn't say anything. Dean was doing all of this for him, even though he didn't need to, and Sam felt like it would just be... _wrong_ to complain.

Lucky for him, Dean was pretty good at figuring out Sam's body language. His brother pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and shut off the Impala. “Alright, get out and stretch your legs. I don't wanna deal with your passive-aggressive sitting for three more hours.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

After a minute or so of walking around, and another ten of waiting for Dean to come out of the woods (honestly, he complained about _Sam_ taking too long), Sam hopped back into the passenger's seat and they were on the road again. The bright side of all this, he mused, was that they already had a place to stay when they got there. Unless they somehow screwed it up with their potential roommate.

~o0o~

About a week later and Sam had to remind himself of that constantly. The promise of actual, reasonably comfortable beds was all that kept the brothers going. But, they had finally reached the last day of driving, and it was only about 1:45. That would give them some time to check out the apartment, meet the roommate, and (hopefully) start moving in.

Almost as soon as Sam completed the thought, the Impala came to a stop outside of an apartment complex. He scrambled out of the car and onto the sidewalk, and Dean slid out right behind him. When Sam got a better look at the building, he was shocked at how upscale it looked.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said. “And you best be friggin' grateful, 'cos I had one helluva time findin' a place near your fancy schmancy college that _didn't_ cost an arm an' a leg. So don't screw this up, ya hear?”

“Of the two of us, which one has an abrasive personality and chews with his mouth open?” Sam replied, the _Thank you_ going unspoken. Dean sputtered at him, and Sam was sure that if they hadn't just spent the past seven hours in the car after a week of doing the same thing, he would have gotten a taste of that abrasive personality. “What number is it?”

“What?”

“The apartment. What number is it? I'd like to actually see the place and meet the guy we'll be bunking with.”

“Oh, yeah, it's 247. The guy's name is Jimmy... something, right?”

“Novak, Dean. Jimmy _Novak_. You should know this, you're the one that set this whole thing up.”

“Hey, I was too busy making sure we'd have a roof over our heads to memorize _last names_ , Sammy!”

“And yet I managed to do it without ever talking to him.” Sam started up the steps to the front door before Dean could start chewing him out. By the time his brother caught up, he was already on the second floor and about to knock on the door of Jimmy Novak's apartment.

Before he could knock, though, the door was opened by a man with dark, messy hair and very blue eyes. “You must be the Winchesters,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“Yeah,” Sam said, “that's us. How did you...?”

“The only other person who lives on the second floor is Ms. Moseley, and she is out until about six today. Also, she doesn't tread quite so heavily as the two of you. Come in,” Jimmy said, opening the door wider and smiling at them.

“Well, he's a weird one,” Dean whispered to Sam as they walked inside. It earned him an elbow in the ribs.

The apartment was very nice, and fairly big, too. There was a reasonably sized kitchenette with a breakfast bar, and a nice living room. There looked to be a loft as well. “I sleep up there,” came Jimmy's voice, and Sam turned to look at him. “I hope you two don't mind. One of you can take the master bedroom, and the other can have the guest room. There's already one of those fold-up beds in it,” Jimmy continued, and then gave Sam and Dean (especially Sam) an appraising look, “But I have an air mattress if it is too small.”

“Uh, thanks, that's really nice of you...” Sam said, and Dean rolled his eyes. Jimmy smiled, and continued with the grand tour, showing the Winchesters how to work the kitchen appliances (The back burners heat up very fast, and the microwave has preset times), and teaching them the “house rules” (Though Sam was the exception to some of them, because “I remember full well how difficult college is”).

Within an hour, Sam and Dean were moving in.

~o0o~

It was only after they had fully unpacked (they didn't own much), and they had eaten dinner (Thai, Jimmy's treat), and Sam was trying to get comfortable on the air mattress (Dean had insisted on getting the master bedroom), that Sam got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

_Shit_ , he thought, when he realized why. Jimmy was a civilian. He and Dean were anything but. So many things could go wrong. He could find out they had powers. It wouldn't be that difficult, it wasn't like Sam could control when he got visions, and when they struck he was prone to losing control of his telekinesis. And if Jimmy found out about their powers, he could easily find out their other identities. _God dammit, we didn't think this through at all_.

Sam didn't sleep very well that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it! :) Sorry that it took so long for me to post, and sorry for any errors as well. Comments and Kudos would be very much appreciated, and there's a reason that comments were listed first *wink wink, nudge nudge*.


	5. Family Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Again. In my defense, I've been working on worldbuilding and fleshing out the plot a bit more. I hope you enjoy. :)

Castiel slipped out of his apartment silently once he was certain his new roommates were asleep. He could easily have induced sleep in order to get out sooner, and with less chance of being discovered, but that just didn't seem right. After all, the Winchesters trusted him (well, Jimmy Novak, but that was still _him_ ), and using any of his powers on or around them unless absolutely necessary could change that very quickly.

So he had waited until he could hear their breath coming slowly and evenly, and then leapt into flight from the balcony.

~o0o~

It was a little early to show up for his shift, but Castiel needed to have some time alone that _didn't_ involve being constantly on edge and waiting for things to go sour. So, he landed on top of the public library, his favorite perch, and breathed in the crisp night air. He loved the silence and the stillness surrounding him.

“Well hey there, Castiel,” said a familiar voice behind him. Castiel groaned. So much for peace and quiet. He turned around.

Before him stood a blond man of slightly-less-than-average height. “Good evening, Gabriel,” he said.

“Excuse you,” Gabriel said indignantly, “you know full well I don't use that name anymore. Be more careful little brother. I'm in witness protection for a reason.”

“Forgive me,” Castiel sighed, “Good evening, _Trickster_.”

Gabriel smiled. He was, in Castiel's humble opinion, far too attached to his vigilante persona for his own good. But Castiel would never mention it.

“Anywho, nice job on that rapist the other night. Seems like you're gettin' pretty good at that shit.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied, trying not to grimace at his brother's flippant tone. How Gabriel could take things like this so lightly had always been beyond him. Said Archangel pulled a lollipop out of one of the many pockets on his jacket. He gestured at Castiel with it in offering. Castiel declined, and Gabriel shrugged, unwrapped the candy and put it in his mouth.

“How have you been, brother? I haven't heard about any new tricks on the news recently.”

“Things've been slow. Most of the petty crooks and such have been scared off. I'm just waiting for them to lull themselves into a false sense of security before I get back to work.”

“I see.”

There was an awkward pause before Gabriel spoke again.

“Well typically this is where I'd ask how _you've_ been, and you'd tell me about your thoroughly _riveting_ life of grading papers, but I'm actually here for a reason,” Castiel tilted his head, “Ever heard of Buck and Scatter? I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if you _hadn't_ , seeing as you aren't the most connected person, but-”

“I am aware of them. Their work is admirable. The highest success rate in the region.”

“Yeah, well, I heard through grapevine – and I do mean that literally, by the way. Dionysus is a total gossip – that they landed themselves _another_ OR.”

“ _Another_? That is unheard of. Getting _one_ in an entire lifetime is unlikely enough, but _two_?”

“I know. And rumor has it they're coming to Cali. Now I know that you like workin' alone. I do too. But if you ever run into these guys and can actually tolerate them, do yourself a favor and make an alliance.”

“Why?”

“ Because those two? They're as close to being on our level as a human could hope to get. But they're loose canons, especially Scatter, and someone needs to keep them in check, teach them how to control their powers before they lose what little control they have.”

“Well if you're so certain of this, then why don't you do it?”

“Oh please. I barely had the patience to teach _you_ , let alone two human chuckleheads who _happened_ to get some pretty cool powers. But you sit inside a classroom all day doing nothing _but_ teach. So if anybody's gonna be able to keep those boys under control, it's you.”

Castiel considered that for a minute. “Thank you,” he said at last, “I will try my best to live up to your expectations.” After brief deliberation, Castiel moved to hug Gabriel. However, Gabriel held up a hand to prevent the physical affection from occurring.

“Yeah, I don't think so, bro. That was enough brotherly affection for the next few decades. Besides, don't you have a patrol to be getting to right about now?”

Castiel looked up. Judging by the stars, it was in fact his shift. With one last nod towards Gabriel, he spread his wings and took to the skies.

~o0o~

It was a quiet night. No robberies, no drug deals, no gang disputes, no assaults of any form. The only thing Castiel had dealt with was a cardboard box full of kittens that he had stumbled across. That was an easily fixable problem. He just dropped the box off at the nearest no-kill shelter, and went back to patrolling.

Despite his foresight to bring along a book this time, Castiel's mind kept wandering to what Gabriel had said about Buck and Scatter. What was it that made them such “loose cannons”? Why was Scatter this more so than his partner? They were obviously two very powerful Supers, that was an undeniable fact. They had almost as many arrests and kills under their belts as Castiel himself. Was it because they were in fact so powerful that they couldn't properly control their powers?

Somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled an incident involving the pair, but he couldn't remember the details. It had been several years ago, and seeing as whatever had happened, happened almost on the other side of the country, there hadn't been a lot of media coverage in Palo Alto. He would have to look into it. If he ever actually managed to get any time to himself.

Perhaps he should have thought a little bit more about the repercussions of having not just one, but two roommates.

~o0o~

Castiel returned home in the wee hours of the morning. Thank Father that he did not need to sleep. It was a school night, after all. However, he did enjoy sleep, and he did have to keep up the guise of being human now. So, he removed his armor and put on his pajamas. As he folded up his armor to put it in its own little pocket universe, something fell out of his garb's _actual_ pockets.

Bending down for a closer look, he saw that it was a lollipop. Castiel smiled and put it on his bedside table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Kudos are nice, but comments are even better. Both is the absolute best.


	6. Necessary Errands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I'm back!  
> So, summer break is on, and now I've got plenty of time to write, so updates might be slightly less erratic for a while, yay! I say might because inspiration can get a little iffy, as I'm sure you all know. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, thanks for being so patient. <3

“You got the list?” Dean asked Sam as they got into the Impala.

“Yeah Dean, I have it. I've had it every other time you asked, and unless something terrible happens, I'll have it every other time you _will_ ask.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Wasn't his fault he was worried. Pre-law needed an insane number of textbooks, and all of them were required, and _Sammy needed all of them so that he could get himself a good education like no other Winchester had gotten to_. So yeah, he was acting a bit like a mother hen. Sue him.

“I dunno, man. You've lost some pretty important shit before,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

Sam was staring at him now. Dean struggled to think of something that didn't boil down to _your control_ , because it was still too soon to bring that up. Too close to home, even if home was on the other side of the country. Plus, the last thing he wanted was for Sammy to be sad, because that was even worse than him being angry. “... That scratch-off lottery ticket a couple months ago,” he said, patting himself on the back for having such a nice save, “I mean, that was fifteen hundred down the drain. We coulda gone out for dinner an' all that, but _no_...”

“Dude, that was _you_ ,” Sam snorted, “You let that chick pickpocket you.”

“Hey, all I'm sayin' is _you're_ the one with the whole prophetic dreams thing goin' on, you shoulda been able to prevent that.” Sam's jaw twitched.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They sat in an easy silence for a while before Sam spoke again. “Are we heading over to the MOL for our California licenses after this, or...?”

Dean looked over at his brother incredulously. “Seriously, dude? We just got here, and you wanna get to work already?”

“Well...”

“I mean, getting textbooks 'n stuff early, I get. Hell, I can even understand the whole summer prep courses thing, but the licenses? Seriously?”

“What's the matter with that, Dean?” Dean sighed. Deeply.

“Look, I'm all for the whole “saving people, hunting things” business, but come on. Don't you wanna take a break now and then? I mean, you've got friggin' _college_ to think about, y'know? And a career as some hotshot lawyer after that. Why don't you just take a little breather from Heroics and focus on that for a bit, man?”

“Of course I want a break Dean,” Sam said, “But...”

“But...?”

“I can't control when my visions come. And when they do, they're only ever of bad things. So basically, at any moment I could drop to the ground seeing some poor Civie getting killed or something. And you _know_ that I couldn't just sit back and let it happen. So yeah, I wanna take a break. But it just wouldn't work.”

Dean considered that for a moment. Sam, damn him, raised a pretty good point. “Well, you could just... I dunno. Tell me when you have visions and _I_ could deal with it. You could rest up.”

“Yeah, but then _you'd_ be working yourself ragged doing all of that alone. We work better as a team.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean sighed again.

~o0o~

By the end of their trip to the bookstore, the sun was setting, and Dean was incredibly grateful that he'd only gone to a community college. He said as much to Sam, who gave him Bitch Face #38 ( _You should stop saying things like that_ ). Dean decided to stop him right there, because he really didn't want to get into a discussion about he could and should have gone to a four-year university and yadda-yadda-yadda. He knew he was smart, and he didn't need his baby brother telling him that. He just had no interest in school.

“Just sayin', these books are damn heavy, and expensive as hell.”

Sam dropped the Bitch Face and replaced it with a sheepish expression. “Yeah, but I kinda need them. 'M sorry.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, none a that, you hear me? You worked your ass off to get here, you ain't gotta feel _sorry_ for needing textbooks. Jesus, Sammy.”

Sam nodded, piled the textbooks in his arm into the back seat of the Impala with the one's Dean had been carrying, and got in shotgun. Dean closed the back door and slid in as well, revving the engine.

“Alright, next stop is the MOL.”

~o0o~

The Men of Letters office wasn't anything fancy. It was nice, sure, but the decor made it pretty clear they didn't want people hanging around any longer than they had to. As if the fact they were only open for a couple hours at night didn't make that clear. Sam and Dean had put on their uniforms in a back alley several blocks away, and had made their way to the MOL via the rooftops and alleyways. Discretion was a bitch.

As they entered, Dean... _Buck_ couldn't help but notice that the employees and Heroes were staring a little. He groaned inwardly. He figured they'd be recognized (they had a pretty big reputation across the country), but he really didn't like the scrutiny. Scatter didn't seem all that comfortable with it either. He clapped his brother on the back.

“In 'n out. Let's get this over with, yeah?”

~o0o~

They'd been waiting for two and a half hours.

Scatter had stepped outside to text Jimmy that they'd be really late. Probably fed him some bull about how the bookstore didn't have one of his books and they'd had to go all over looking for it, and it was late by the time they'd found it so they already ate dinner out, but now there was really bad traffic, sorry about making him worry. Yeah, that seemed about right. It was mostly true, anyway. After Jimmy had been dealt with, Scatter came back inside and dropped into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

For a company run by Supers and ex-Heroes, the MOL offices sure were a lot like DMVs. Right down to the shitty seating and fluorescent lights and the goddamn _waiting_. Buck groaned and slid down into a deep slouch. He really, really wanted to just go back to the apartment and eat something, because they had not, in fact, gotten something to eat earlier. Because they'd been sitting in the goddamn MOL office for hours, and they'd gotten here _early_.

Plus, there was some guy who'd been staring at them the whole time, even after everyone else had gotten over their surprise and let them be. Buck tried to memorize how he looked just in case. This guy seemed like the kind of person who got a Hero license just so he wouldn't get arrested for all the things he did. Buck gave him quick once-overs whenever the guy wasn't looking.

Blond. Short. Probably around 5' 7”. Didn't look very muscular. Weird golden eyes, although that was probably just a physical manifestation of his powers. Lots of supers had things like that. But Buck didn't get a chance to finish his profiling, because _at long last their number had been called_. He praised god, and also the devil, and every other deity he could think of, good or evil.

For such a long wait, getting a license was a pretty quick and easy process. Or at least getting a new one printed with a different state seal was. Buck and Scatter, three-time veterans of the MOL licensing office, made their way out the door with their California Hero Licenses in hand. The guy with golden eyes was still watching them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it. If you did, please leave comments and kudos , but especially comments


	7. All-Nighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well would you look at that? I'm actually updating within a reasonable amount of time. Isn't that weird? Anyway, here's chapter 7, I hope you enjoy. :)

Gabriel had been keeping an eye on Buck and Scatter. Wary as he was about the two of them, he had to admit they had a certain degree of style, which was refreshing in the Super community. A lot of Supers actually bought into the whole cape, spandex, underwear on the outside thing, which, come on, really?

Nah, these guys were practical. Sturdy boots, masks that didn't inhibit their vision, lightweight bulletproof vests over long-sleeved shirts, those fingerless gloves that hackers seemed to favor. They hid any part of them that could be used as identifiers without looking like absolute clowns. He could get behind that. Probably had some sort of military background, either themselves or a guardian. Not that it mattered too much, but hey, he was here to get info on these guys, so every little bit helped.

When Buck and Scatter left the MOL to go back to the lives of their other identities, Gabriel snapped himself back to his own Civie self's apartment. He was greeted by his dog, which was pretty nice cause he'd always been rather fond of that particular creation of his father's. Gathering her into his lap, he scratched her behind the ears as he began to complain about his day.

“Seriously, they spent three hours in a bookstore! Three friggin' hours! Who spends that much time in a bookstore, of all places? And I didn't even manage to find out their names!” He picked up Jellybean (he liked candy, sue him) and looked her dead in the eye. “And that's another thing! I hate having to use _human_ methods. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to _know_ I could have all the information I need in the blink of an eye, but not be able to do it? Do you?!”

Jellybean licked his face.

Gabriel sighed and set her down on the floor. “'Course you don't, you're just a dog.” He couldn't really hold that against her, though. Gabriel stretched as he stood up, rolling his shoulders out of instinct. It didn't do anything to alleviate the ache between his shoulder blades.

Gabriel sighed once again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. It was probably due to boredom. Gabriel knew that if he stepped up his game and started dealing with some of the bigger bads, he wouldn't be in this situation, but those guys were just so _boring_. Dealing with them was _boring_. At least he could get a laugh out of dishing out just desserts to assholes and petty crooks, but they just weren't coming out to play lately. Too many of them had learned their lesson.

Figuring he had nothing better to do, he decided to see what he could find out about Buck and Scatter online. With any luck, he'd be able to find more information on them than he had from rumors and observation.

~o0o~

Researching sucked. It took for-friggin'-ever, and most of what he found smelled distinctly of bullshit. Come on, Scatter leveling everything within a mile radius? Please. No way in Hell, Heaven, or anything in-between could any mortal have that much power, let alone some _kid_.

And see that was the interesting part. The part that Gabriel still couldn't quite work out. When Buck and Scatter got started, Buck was barely legal, and Scatter was even younger. He must have been thirteen or older, that was the youngest one could legally get a Hero license, but seriously? Most Supers waited until they were at least twenty to become active. So why had these two started so early?

Delving deeper, Gabriel still found no information on that. He did find more articles and video clips about Scatter's little “incident”, but he couldn't take those at face value. As a rule, the media always exaggerated. But, it did cement into Gabriel's mind that this kid was without a doubt _extremely_ volatile and needed some sort of training to get actual control over his powers, not just keep them contained like it seemed he was doing.

Gabriel continued his search.

~o0o~

Around 2:30 in the morning, Gabriel decided he was tired of doing things the hard way. He called up his old buddy Hermes to hack into the Men of Letters database for him. Hermes owed the Archangel more than a few favors, so he kinda had to, but whatever. It worked, didn't it?

Within just a few minutes (thanks to Hermes' pagan god mojo), Gabriel was in, and there would be notifications of any firewalls being breached come... later morning. Gabriel got to work.

He looked up Buck first, simply because there seemed to be some disagreement amongst the Super and Civie communities alike about what his powers were. Unfortunately, the file was _unnecessarily long_. And of course Gabriel couldn't just scroll through it because _he didn't know the layout of the files_. And he couldn't use his powers because for whatever reason they didn't mix well with computers.

_Date of Activation, blah blah blah... Physical Exam, nope..._ After nearly twenty minutes of scrolling, Gabriel finally found what he was looking for.

_Powers:_

  * _Heightened speed, strength, and endurance_

  * _Imbues weapons with his intent_




Okay, what the hell did that mean? What, like he wanted to kill a demon so all of a sudden, poof, his gun could kill demons? Friggin' Men of Letters and their friggin' vague profiles. Gabriel muttered to himself angrily over the lack of specificity as he continued scrolling. When he got to the bottom, there was a section labeled _Infractions_. It was blank. Weird, Buck seemed to be more of the bad-boy type than Scatter.

But that got him curious. Maybe the Men of Letters would have some reliable info on whatever happened three years ago. When he found the profile, he pretty much went straight to the bottom. He even went past details of the kid's powers and his psych evaluation. He could come back to those later. First he had to satisfy his curiosity.

And there it was, at the bottom of the page in big black letters: _Infractions_. There was a link beneath it. “What did you get yourself into, kiddo?” Gabriel whispered to himself. He clicked on the link.

And he didn't like what he read.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit. This was bad. He needed to warn Cas. He needed to warn Cas _yesterday_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. And please, /please/ leave comments and kudos. I'm getting to a point in the story that I'm really worried about writing/posting, and any feedback you can give me would be great. Thank you. :)


	8. Bad Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 8! I'm chugging along on this, aren't I? Hope you like it! :)

_There was a ringing in his ears and a pounding in his skull. His mind was overloaded. So much to take in, so much all around him and above him and below him, extending infinitely and he could_ feel _it. Why could he feel it? Why did it hurt so bad?_

_He heard his brother's voice calling for him, but he couldn't respond. He couldn't do anything. He was stuck, and he was burning and freezing, all the sensations he'd ever felt all at once. It was too much. He had to stop. He had to stop. Stop._

_Stopstopstopstopstop._

_Make it stop!_

~o0o~

Sam woke slowly, calmly, just like he had the morning Dean found out. He groaned and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. He couldn't just have normal dreams, could he? No, visions or nightmares, pick one or nothing. And that nightmare was one of the worst, because it had happened. It had happened and people had gotten hurt and it had been all his fault.

The single worst day in his life, and he dreamed about it all the time.

And now he was tearing up. Great. Just friggin' great. Sam rolled over to look at the clock. It was 3:17. This just kept getting better, didn't it? Sam huffed and tried to get comfortable. And then he did it again. And again. And one more time.

With an exasperated groan, Sam sat up. It was no use; he'd never get back to sleep. And besides, even if he did, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he'd just have a continuation of his nightmare. So, he got off of the air mattress and made his way to the kitchenette for some tea.

On his way there, he noticed that Jimmy's light was on, and he could hear his roommate muttering exasperatedly. It sounded like maybe he was arguing with someone. Curiosity getting the best of him, Sam made his way up the narrow flight of stairs to the loft.

“Look, I don't care what you found online, there is no way of knowing whether or not-” Jimmy caught Sam's eye. He sighed a bit, though it seemed to be directed at whomever he was speaking to rather than Sam, “Now's not the time. It's three in the morning, you should be sleeping, as should I. If you'd like to discuss this at a later date, I'd be more than happy, but I need to go.”

With that Jimmy hung up. Sam smiled at him sheepishly. “Sorry, did I... interrupt something important?”

Jimmy looked up at him for a little while before answering, “No, no. Actually, I should be thanking you. That was my brother just now. He'll believe anything he reads, and, well...”

“Say no more. Dean can get like that too sometimes. Though he's never woken me up at three in the morning over it.”

“Speaking of, why on earth are you awake?” Jimmy asked, scrutinizing him.

“Uh... nightmares. Couldn't get back to sleep,” Sam gave a noncommittal shrug and smiled as if to say _what can you do about it?_ , “Figured I may as well make some tea, read a little bit, see if that would help.”

Jimmy nodded in an understanding manner. “I have some chamomile if you'd like. And some honey, that would probably be better than sugar if you're trying to get back to sleep.”

“Sure.”

Sam followed Jimmy to the kitchenette and tried to stay out of his way while he boiled water for Sam's tea. He used a kettle. Sam had never actually seen somebody use a kettle before. He thought it only happened in fiction. All his life, he and Dean had only ever used microwaves to heat water. When the kettle started to screech, Jimmy took it off the heat and turned of the burner with almost inhuman speed so as not to wake said brother. Jimmy made tea for himself and Sam, and they sat in a companionable silence while they drank.

“If you don't mind me asking,” Jimmy said eventually, “what was your nightmare about? According to many parents, talking about them makes them less scary.”

Sam huffed out a laugh at Jimmy's awkward demeanor. “Clowns,” He said, “Always been terrified by 'em. Don't know why but they just skeeve me out. Like, enough to run in the other direction, probably screaming.”

A few years ago, Sam would have been scared at how easily the lie came out. Not anymore. Lying was now so ingrained into his life that he didn't bat an eye at it. And it wasn't like it was entirely false, clowns _did_ scare the crap out of him. Anyway, Jimmy believed it and that was the whole point.

“I'm sorry. Clowns can be rather unnerving at times.”

“Yeah.”

There was what felt like the tenth awkward pause in the conversation.

“Well, it's the last week of school next week, so I should probably work on grading my students' essays while I'm up. You're welcome to use my Netflix until you can get back to sleep.”

Sam nodded and thanked Jimmy. He didn't mention that he really had no plans of going back to bed. He grabbed his beat-up copy of _The Hobbit_ off of his bedside table and settled himself on Jimmy's couch, which was actually big enough for him to lay down on. He began to read.

~o0o~

Around the time Bilbo and company reached Beorn's house, Sam realized he was starting to doze off. It was nearly 5:00, though, so he got up and made himself some coffee. Seemingly drawn to the noise of the coffee maker, Jimmy appeared in the kitchenette.

“Oh, hey. I figured you and Dean would want some, too, so there's enough for three in the pot,” Sam said over his shoulder as he put the grounds in the filter.

“You didn't sleep at all, did you?” Jimmy asked in a voice that was both accusing and concerned.

“What do you mean he didn't sleep?” came Dean's voice from behind the two of them. Sam cringed a little.

“I woke up a little after three, couldn't get back to sleep, it's not a big deal.”

“The hell it isn't, you need your sleep Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Jimmy looked rather confused.

“Has this been an ongoing problem?” He asked.

Sam sighed as Dean launched into their well-practiced story of Sam's bouts of insomnia, and no, it's not anything serious but he won't even consider sleeping pills because he doesn't want to wind up reliant, etc., etc. Like most of their lies, it was partially true. In this case the insomnia was actually Sam's visions, and the sleeping pills were actually power suppressants. The real reason Sam didn't take those was because they were highly illegal and just as addictive and dangerous as Civie drugs. He'd seen what it did to people.

Eventually the discussion was brought to a close when the coffee was finished, which Sam was immensely grateful for. Jimmy offered to make pancakes for breakfast, Sam volunteered to fry the bacon, and Dean decided to “make some real coffee, because you can't use this medium-roast shit if you want it to actually _work_ ”. Sam had flipped him off at that. Some people liked coffee that was not, in fact, bitter enough to ruin their sense of taste for the rest of their lives.

~o0o~

It was well after breakfast, when all three of them had showered and were watching the news, that the doorbell rang. Sam was closest to the door, so he got up to answer it. He opened the door to find a short, blond man with his mouth hanging wide open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. As I've said before, I'm really worried about how I'm doing on this part of the story, so please leave me comments with your thoughts. Kudos are nice, but they don't tell me the pros and cons. But please be polite if you do have criticisms.


	9. The Big Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! Sorry this took a while, internet has been a little iffy here. But, here you guys go! Hope you like it. :)

_Scatter. Dad help me, it's friggin' Scatter._

Gabriel was in a state of shock. Scatter was living with Cas. And Buck probably was, too, because those two never seemed to go anywhere without each other. Holy shit. This was _not_ good. And now Scatter was looking at him funny. Great. Now he had to salvage the situation.

“Uh... Can I, can I help you?” Scatter asked.

“You know, up until now I wasn't aware that Sasquatch had a cousin,” Gabriel said, briefly wondering if maybe he should also pick his jaw up off of the floor. You know, just to make it a little less awkward for everyone. Cas seemed to recognize his voice, thank Dad, and rushed over to the door.

“Gabe,” and boy, wasn't that just great. _Way to be original, little brother_ , “I know I said we could talk today, but-”

“Yeah, well, I was in the area, so let's talk now,” Gabriel tried to use his eyes to indicate the “alone” bit. It didn't really work.

“Well, come on in. I'll introduce you.”

Gabriel tried his absolute hardest to internalize his groan. Years spent living with humans clearly did nothing for Castiel's tact and ability to pick up on social cues. “If you'll _recall_ , Jimmy, it's kind of a private matter. I'm sure your roommates are nice an' all, but let's not trouble them with family business.”

Then Cas seemed to get it. His eyes widened and he glanced surreptitiously at Buck and Scatter. “Of course,” he replied, “But it seems rude not to introduce you three, as you'll be _coming to visit rather frequently_.” Jesus, Gabriel could practically _feel_ the passive-aggressiveness rolling off of Cas in waves.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Gabriel sighed, really, _really_ trying to one, not roll his eyes, and two, not freak out about the fact that _Buck and Scatter were living with Castiel_.

“Right, well. This is Sam Winchester,” Cas said, gesturing to Scatter, “And his older brother, Dean. They moved to California in order for Sam to attend law school at Stanford.”

Huh. That was actually pretty impressive.

“Sam, Dean,” Cas continued, seemingly irritated at Gabriel's lack of response, “This is my older brother Gabe. He directs _Dr. Sexy_. I understand that it's one of your guilty pleasures, Dean. Perhaps you two will have some interesting discussions.”

Buck... Dean... _Whoever_ had the good sense to looked embarrassed. “Well, great meeting you guys, nice to know that Bigfoot is, in fact, real, be seein' you. Let's _go_ Jimmy.”

Cas barely had his idiotic trench coat on when Gabriel dragged him out the door and into his car.

~o0o~

The drive back to Gabriel's apartment was decidedly awkward, what with Gabriel fuming silently and Cas having no idea what was going on. When they arrived,Gabriel stomped his way to the door, once again dragging Castiel behind him. Christ, the situation couldn't _be_ more screwed up. When both of them were inside and the door had been slammed shut, Gabriel whirled on Castiel.

“What the hell, Cas?! Seriously, what the ever-loving hell?!”

“I... I don't”

“I know I said to make an alliance if you met Buck and Scatter, but seriously? You couldn't do that without making them your roommates? Do you have any idea how much danger you could be in right now?!” Yeah, Gabriel was a jerk, and he picked on Cas relentlessly when they were together, but that didn't mean he wanted his brother to die!

“Buck and Scatter?” Cas looked shocked, “You mean to tell me that Sam and Dean are Buck and Scatter?”

Gabriel froze. Cas didn't know. Well, that was just great. Wonderful. Fantastic. “Yeah, Cas. Dean is Buck, and Sam... Sam is Scatter.”

Castiel scowled at him. “And how would you know this, exactly?”

“Well if you have any sort of functioning memory, I told you they were loose cannons. And I don't like loose cannons in my neighborhood. So, I _might_ have used just a _little_ bit of my Grace to track them down and then _maybe_ I followed them for the day.” He to make it seem like no big deal, but he knew it wouldn't work. Cas knew he was in hiding, and just how important something had to be for him to tap into his Grace.

As it was, Cas was looking at him with a weird mix of frustration and worry. “And?”

“And what?”

“And what did you find out. You said I could be in danger. Why?”

Gabriel sighed. “I think this is gonna take a while. You wanna take off your shoes and make yourself comfortable?”

~o0o~

Gabriel tossed the copies of Buck and Scatter's files that he'd printed out onto the coffee table. Castiel looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow. “You'll prolly wanna look those over later. No taking them home with you, though,” Gabriel said.

Castiel nodded. Gabriel huffed out a sigh and flopped down into his chair. He couldn't stall any longer. Which was weird, by the way. He'd been so damn determined to warn Cas, and now here he was putting it off. Gabriel sighed again. He was going for a record.

“Okay, so here's what I found out. Scatter's a freak. I don't mean that as an insult, though. His powers are... freaky. No one's ever seen anything like it, at least not in _the entirety of recorded history_.”

Castiel looked puzzled. “But precognition and telekinesis are fairly common po-”

“Except those aren't his powers. At least, not his only ones. According to his file, his powers are just constantly on, 24/7, so that's already weird. But see, he technically only has _one_ power, which the Men of Letters couldn't even _define_. They just put it down as 'utilizing his brain to well over the extent of the average human'. I mean, they went more in depth after that, but come on, that's pretty weird.”

Gabriel leaned back and crossed his arms. “Essentially, his brain can contain and process information way better than anyone ever, and also utilize his own brainwaves to manipulate the world around him. But you remember how I said his powers are always on?”

Castiel nodded. “Well, Scatter's precognitive abilities seem to be the lowest possible level for his powers to be operating on. And that's not limited to visions. In that stupid interview we've all gotta take he said sometimes he'll,” Gabriel paused to pick up the file and flipped it to the right page, “'just get these weird feelings, like if something bad's gonna happen. It's almost like intuition, but more exact'. He said that he can meet a person and get a sense of what their day will be like, good or bad.”

“And the more he focuses, the more he _tries_ to use his powers, the stronger they get. The reason that he can use telekinesis and exorcise demons with his mind is because when he focuses enough, he becomes acutely aware of the presence of the demon or whatever it is he's trying to move. Aware enough to actually kind of _reach out_ with his mind and grab it.”

Castiel sighed, sounding a little irritated. “I understand that you are trying to impress upon me the danger of having these two, and apparently Scatter especially, as roommates, but thus far you have only managed to explain to me why Scatter is a particularly interesting individual who needs to learn how to manage his abilities.”

“Well then you clearly weren't paying attention. Think about it. As he uses his powers, he becomes more aware of the world around him. His powers, on the lowest level of operation, can pick up a general idea of one person's future. As he focuses, his powers start to cover a bigger surface area, so to speak. Are you following?”

“Yes.”

“So, if Scatter were really focused in on something, and I mean _really_ focused, think of how much surface area he would suddenly sense, suddenly be acutely aware of down to the last atom.”

“His mind would most likely not be able to handle it.”

“Exactly. And focus and control are very different things.”

“If he became to overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information input, he could lose his control entirely...”

“And considering his powers allow him to use telekinesis on what he's focused on...?”

“The results could be cataclysmic.” Give the angel a prize! “But,” Gabriel deflated a little inside, “This is all postulation. We can't be sure that-”

“We can. You remember how a few years back Buck and Scatter made the news all the way over here a few times? And what little actual information we got seemed grossly exaggerated? Spoiler alert, for once the media actually _downplayed_ it.”

“Oh,” Cas was starting to actually look a little worried now.

“Yeah. And the only reason there wasn't more damage was because the poor kid dropped to the ground and had a seizure.”

“ _Oh_ ,” It was barely a whisper, and Castiel looked very pale.

“Now Cas, you need to listen to me very carefully. Get that kid help. Train him. Train his brother if that's what it takes to get him to go along with it. Hell, even get me to help if you've gotta. But no matter what, teach him to get his powers under control. Because if he slips up again, this poor kid could break the whole damn world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave comments and kudos, but especially comments, because I'd love some feedback. Thanks again! :)


	10. A Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in so long. I swear I didn't abandon this or any of my stories. This last year was very hard on me. Late last summer I was diagnosed with a severe panic and anxiety disorder, and the diagnoses just kept coming. Severe depression, ADHD, borderline OCD... and we really only noticed when it got so bad I started both mentally and physically shutting down. My grades suffered, and all the stress on my brain destroyed my immune system and I caught Mono, which lasted for at least two months. On top of that, I had the heaviest workload I've ever had during the school year.  
> But now, school is out, I am attending therapy sessions and having monthly visits to a psychiatrist, as well as taking medications that are really helping me to function. I'm in a pretty good place right now.  
> So, I'm sorry for leaving you all hanging for nearly a year, but I am back! Please enjoy this chapter, which I have worked very hard on as an apology to you all!

Castiel's hand shook as he reached out to unlock his front door. How was he supposed to handle this? He couldn't train Scatter/Sam _and_ keep up the appearance of being Jimmy Novak. Sam was clearly very intelligent, he'd figure out who he was soon enough. The same went for Buck/Dean. Even if one of them was clueless, the other would find out soon enough.

_Father, please don't let them be inside. I can't deal with that just yet._ Castiel prayed. If the Winchesters were there, they'd notice something was off within seconds. He couldn't afford that. Not now.

When he finally managed to unlock his door, Castiel found the apartment to be empty. He let out a deep breath and took the few steps required to collapse into his favorite chair. Castiel groaned and rubbed at his temples, trying to assuage the oncoming headache that he had no right to be getting.

Eventually, Castiel levered himself up from the chair and went to the kitchen. He needed a lot more coffee in order to deal with this. On the kitchen counter, there was a note. He couldn't tell which Winchester's handwriting it was.

_Went to the grocery. Out of milk and eggs._

_Be back soon, call if you need/want anything. :)_

Castiel squinted at the message. Yes, there was, in fact, a smiley face on the note. Castiel decided that it was most likely Sam who had written it. He sent Sam and Dean a text to buy honey, paper towels, brownie mix, and ibuprofen. Those items were all in very different areas of the store, regardless of which one they went to, which would buy him a little more time to compose himself and figure out how he was going to handle the situation.

~o0o~

When Sam and Dean got back, Castiel had managed to devise a basic plan of attack. Telling the truth wasn't going to work, obviously. But it wouldn't be that hard to keep track of Sam and Dean, follow them the next time they went on patrol, and then “accidentally” reveal his secret identity by recognizing them. That way, they would all be on relatively equal footing, and it would throw them off of Gabriel's trail. He could tell that his brother wanted to stay out of this as much as angelically possible.

_Just act like Jimmy. You can do this_ , Castiel thought when he heard the telltale rattling of the doorknob. Sam and Dean walked in, arms laden with plastic grocery bags. Castiel got up to help them. That was something Jimmy would do.

“Hey, Jimmy, we didn't know what brand of brownie mix you wanted, so we just got a couple,” Sam said as he passed one of the clearly lighter bags to Castiel.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “Betty Crocker, and one with a weird name that's supposed to be free trade.”

“Ghirardelli?” Castiel asked.

“Yep,” Sam called from the kitchenette, “It seemed like something that you'd like.”

It was. Castiel shuddered. Just yesterday he would have chalked that up to Sam being an intuitive individual. Now he knew that it was Sam's powers at work, he felt... odd. He didn't like the thought that Sam could know so much about him simply from being in Castiel's presence.

Castiel shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind and went to work putting groceries away. If Sam could tell he liked Ghirardelli, he would be able to sense Castiel's unease. _Act like Jimmy. Act like Jimmy._

It became a mantra for him for the rest of the day. _Eat lunch like Jimmy would. Read your books and grade papers like Jimmy would. Cook dinner like Jimmy. Watch TV like Jimmy. Act like Jimmy, act like Jimmy, act like Jimmy_. It was nerve-wracking. It was ridiculous. An Angel of the Lord, afraid of two humans finding out who he was.

_Humans with powers_ , he reminded himself, _humans who can kill anything with anything and destroy the world on accident_.

By the time Jimmy allegedly went to sleep, Castiel was starting to see the appeal of the activity. But he didn't have time to try it. According to Gabriel, the Winchesters had gotten their California Hero Licenses, which meant they would very likely be going on patrol soon, if not tonight. So, he gave every appearance of getting ready for and going to bed, and sent out just the smallest tendril of his Grace to keep track of the brothers.

Sure enough, just a little past 11:00, he sensed the Winchesters leave the apartment. Castiel put on his armor and followed them.

~o0o~

The Winchesters wandered the streets of Palo Alto silently, keeping to the shadows and back alleys. If Castiel had not been an Angel, he would most certainly have lost them. As it was, he managed to keep tabs on them from far enough away to not arouse suspicion. Or at least, he hoped it was far enough away. There was no telling just how far Sam would be reaching.

However, the fact that he had not yet been confronted by either of the brothers was a good sign.

Now Castiel just needed to wait until such a time that he could get involved. There was a fairly high chance of the night being uneventful, though. The Winchesters mainly dealt with Villains of the more Supernatural persuasion, and with not one, but two Angels within the city it could be a while before any such beings became bold enough to show their faces.

 

~o0o~

 

As it turned out, Castiel had immensely misjudged the recklessness of malevolent Supernaturals and the Winchester brothers alike. Not even two hours into their shift, Buck and Scatter waltzed _right into a nest of Vampires_. Castiel had the urge to tug his own hair out. He had been staking out that nest for _months_ , trying to find _any_ proof of suspicious activity that would hint these vampires were, in fact, the ones responsible for a recent rash of murders, and here come the Winchesters walking right in like they _owned the place._

_Do they even have any kind of warrant?_ Castiel wondered, exasperated to no end by the recent developments. He forced himself to breathe slowly, shifting to a takeoff stance so he could jump into the undoubtedly oncoming melee if need be. _Perhaps_ , he thought, _I can get this all over and done with and not live in a constant state of stress for Father knows how long_. Castiel knew it was wishful thinking, but an Angel could hope.

Just as he was thinking this, shouts rang out from the dilapidated warehouse where the nest resided. Castiel tensed, gripping the pommel of his sword. _Not yet. They still have it under control. Not yet. Don't make them suspicious. Not yet._

So he stood their, wings spread wide, ready to attack at a moment's notice, a slightly awed expression upon his face as he watched Sam and Dean in action through the warehouse's windows. It really was impressive how well they worked together. Dean stood in the middle of the fray, indiscriminately shooting, stabbing, and hacking at any Vampire within range while Same stayed more towards the edge, throwing those attempting to escape back to Dean so he could deal with them. It was no wonder their statistics were so high.

But in the end, they were just two humans, and there were upwards of twenty Vampires. The strain was taking its toll on both of them, especially Sam. His hands began to shake, his eyes started to become glassy. _Not yet. Not yet._ A sweat broke out on Sam's brow. Castiel leaned forward slightly. _Not yet. Not yet._ A Vampire managed to make its way out of the main fight and past Sam. _Not Yet. Not yet_. Sam didn't notice it, to preoccupied with a Vampire trying to tear his throat out. The escapee was within a few yards of the warehouse's back door.

_Now!_

Castiel launched himself into the air. As he got close to one of the warehouse's windows, he threw his legs out and kicked, shattering the glass. He folded his wings and landed heavily, stance wide and sword drawn, in front of the Vampire trying to run away. Before the Vampire could even finish shouting in surprise, Castiel drove his sword through the Vampire's heart.

The warehouse was silent for all of a moment before Castiel charged into the mob of Vampires surrounding the Winchesters. The clamor rose up again almost instantly. Castiel relished the thrill of the battle. It had been so long since he had been in any fight that wasn't one on one, it felt so _good_ , so _right_ , to be there. There, in the middle of a nest of Vampires, letting his Grace sing through his body as he cut down one adversary after another, doing what he had been _created for_.

Castiel didn't even notice that the Winchesters had stopped fighting until he killed the last Vampire, the leader. I wasn't until he had reached out and touched his face with a hand burning with his Grace, and he _knew_ that yes, they had killed all those people, and yes, they _had_ done those awful, awful things to the corpses. It wasn't until he let his own wrath get the better of him and _burned the monster from the inside out_ , that he noticed the Winchesters, Buck and Scatter, Sam and Dean, simply standing there, arms loose at their sides, staring at him with wide eyes and confusion evident on their faces despite the masks.

Castiel slowly drew himself up and met their eyes. _The plan. Don't forget the plan_. Just as he opened his mouth, Sam spoke.

“Jimmy?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this, everyone. Once again I am very sorry for such a long wait. Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you! <3


	11. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the wait guys. I hit kind of a low point for a while there, and then the election happened, which didn't help in the slightest. But, I figured maybe this could help y'all to feel better. I hope you enjoy! :)

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tight and opened them again. No, this wasn't a hallucination. Yes, the Angel standing in front of them, the goddamn _Angel_ _Castiel_ , was their nerdy schoolteacher roommate. He was gonna need _several_ drinks by the time this was over. Sam and Jimmy ( _Castiel_ , Christ on a _crutch_ ,) were staring at each other, stock-still and unblinking. It almost looked like they were having a conversation.

“Anybody wanna deal in the one guy _without_ the freaky-deaky mind powers,” He said, desperate to break the tension.

The Angel and his brother turned to look at him. Jimmy looked resigned to the whole situation. Sam looked like he wanted to throw himself directly into the sun. And also like he was liable to pass out at an moment. _Well shit_ , Dean thought, _that's not something we need right now_.

He stepped forward and squeezed Sam's shoulder. The poor kid needed to get away from the warehouse and the weight of the Angel's Grace, and he needed to get away _now_.

“Look, Jimmy, or Castiel, or _whatever_ , this isn't the best time. Let's just... finish our shifts and we'll talk in the morning.”

The back of Sam's neck had gone clammy, and Dean was pretty sure that he could feel tremors starting. This was _not_ how they'd wanted their first patrol here to go.

Jim-Cas looked at Dean, then at Sam, then back at Dean again before he nodded and put his sword away.

“I will have pancakes ready when you return,” he said, and just like that, Sam and Dean were the only living beings in the warehouse.

Almost instantly, Sam let out a choked gasp and sank, trembling, to the ground.

Dean forced back the tears stinging in his eyes as he watched his baby brother seized and thrashed and _screamed_ on the blood-spattered concrete.

~o0o~

Several hours later, after cleaning Sam up and helping him into his civie clothes and giving him a once-over to make sure he was lucid enough to function, Dean found himself half-supporting, half-dragging Sam as the two of them made their way up the stairs to their apartment. Jim-Cas opened the door before Dean even managed to knock. Sam perked his head up a little as the smell of pancakes wafted through the open door.

The Angel had been serious, then.

Jim-Cas stepped to the side and let the brothers through. He hovered around Sam as he sat on the couch and shakily took off his boots, looking for all the world like he just wanted to do it himself. If it weren't for the look of absolute concern on the Angel's face, Dean would have wanted to punch him. But his hands still twitched when Jim-Cas reached out to pull Sam's hair out of his face, because _Sam needed space goddammit_.

The three of them walked to the table in the kitchenette where there were three plates, each stacked high with an obscene amount of pancakes. Sam sat down instantly,and without saying a thing began shoveling pancakes into his mouth. Dean and Jim-Cas hesitated, looking between Sam and each other before pulling out their own chairs and sitting.

The apartment was filled with the sounds of chewing and metal scraping against porcelain as the three men ate.

If Sam picked up on the tension radiating from his brother and the angel alike as they ate, he didn't let on. Instead he finished his breakfast in record time, and Dean only felt a little bit territorial when Jim-Cas beat him to sliding more pancakes onto Sam's plate. But soon Sam needed more, and Dean piled three more pancakes onto his brother's plate. He and the Angel switched off, passing Sam more food or coffee whenever he finished what was in front of him, both forgetting their own food as they watched the kid practically inhale whatever they put in front of him without even looking up.

Dean nearly laughed at the half-intrigued, half-terrified look on Jim-Cas' face. Poor Angel had probably never seen anything like Sam after an Episode.

Eventually, though, as the number of pancakes dwindled, Sam slowed. He stopped eating like he wasn't sure when he'd see food again, and instead took tiny bites, chewing slowly. He was stalling. Dean could tell. Sam was more lucid at this point, and he knew that they would have to talk about what had happened, and he would put that conversation off until the end of the world if he could.

Seeing the nervousness in his brother's eyes, and knowing he was probably gonna remain nonverbal for another hour at least, Dean took pity on Sam. He leaned over and patted Sam's shoulder. Sam looked up.

“Hey, just... just go to bed after this, 'kay? Been a long night. Get some rest. We can worry about everything else in the morning.”

Sam grunted softly and got up before making his way to his bedroom. Dean watched him, making sure he wasn't still shaking or uncoordinated. He refused to look Jim-Cas in the eye as the Angel cleared the table.

It was a waiting game, now.

~o0o~

Almost three hours later, Sam emerged.

His hair was mussed and his eyes still closed, but his face wasn't nearly as pale as it had been.

“Well, look who decided to join the land of the living,” Dean called, hoping that acting like everything was okay and normal (or at least as normal as it could be for the Winchesters) would make Sam feel as though everything was okay and normal.

Sam made a disgruntled noise as he rubbed his eyes and dragged a hand through his hair. God, he looked so young. With all the bullshit that had happened to them, sometimes Dean forgot that his brother wasn't even old enough to legally drink. But just then Dean felt as though he was back in their shared bedroom in Bobby's house, listening to Sam as he stammered through telling Dean about his premonitions. He kinda wanted to just wrap Sam up in a blanket and tell him “Nope, you can't be a Hero anymore, you're too little, go back to bed,” but he knew he couldn't.

Sam plopped himself down into the armchair across from the one Dean was in and curled his lanky frame up as small as it could go. It was then that Jim-Cas decided to make an appearance. Dean gripped onto the arms of his chair until his knuckles went white.

This was not going to be a fun conversation.

“If you don't mind,” Jim-Cas said, “I would like to begin by apologizing for any distress I may have caused you,” the Angel's eyes lingered on Sam, “It was in no way my intention to cause problems for either of you.”

“It's alright,” Sam muttered, refusing to look Jim-Cas in the eyes. Dean frowned at how worn out his brother sounded.

“Well at least we figured this shit out early on, right,” he said, trying to keep things lighthearted for Sam's sake, “How awkward would that have been if we found out like two years from now?”

Sam cracked a smile and Dean took it as a success.

“If anything, I believe this will be mutually beneficial,” Jim-Cas replied as he took a seat on the couch, “It will be... _nice_ to know that there are Heroes that I know and can rely on in the area. Regardless of whether we choose to continue sharing an apartment,”

“And ain't that the fly in the ointment?” Dean chuckled, propping his legs up on the coffee table in an effort to seem calm, “You gonna kick us out, Jimmy? Or are ya gonna let us stay outta the goodness of your little Angel heart?”

Jim-Cas did an admirable job of not seeming bothered by Dean breaking one of the apartment rules. Dean did a less admirable job of hiding his mischievous smile. Sam remained silent.

“Well, I think that is up to the two of you. I have no qualms with continuing to share my home with the two of you. It is really a matter of whether or not _you_ would like to remain here now that you know just who and what I am.”

“That been a problem for you with past roommates,” Dean asked, genuinely curious.

“No, but I could imagine it being one.”

Dean leaned back and considered the options for a bit. The apartment was nice, and he didn't have a problem with Jim-Cas so long as the Angel could keep his mouth shut. The only loose end was-

“Sam.”

The boy in question looked up.

“You ain't said a thing since we started talkin'. What do you think? You wanna stay here or should we hightail it to the other side of town?”

Sam picked at his nails for a few moments, still stalling. Just as Dean started getting fed up with waiting, he spoke.

“I mean, the place is nice. Good location. And cheap. We _need_ cheap, cause Stanford sure isn't. And I mean, Castiel doesn't have a problem with it, so if you don't...” he trailed off. Dean huffed out a sigh. Poor kid never wanted to step on anybody's toes, never wanted to inconvenience a soul.

“Well it's settled then,” Dean said, levering up from his chair.

“No,” Jim-Cas said hesitantly, and Sam looked at Dean with trapped eyes. Jim-Cas seemed to notice, and hurried to continue.

“Well, _yes_ but also _no_. There is something I would like to ask, but I fear it is a rather personal question and I do not wish to cause offense.”

“We're roommates,” Sam said, and Dean nodded at him to keep going when he looked to him, “It'll probably come up sooner or later, so why not just... rip off the band-aid?”

Jim-Cas squinted a bit at the term, but seemed to understand what Sam meant.

“Well then,” the Angel cleared his throat, “Sam, are you aware that you have Demon blood?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked this chapter! Please leave comments and kudos to let me know what you thought.  
> On another note, I have slowly but surely begun to cross-post my writing from ao3 onto my tumblr writing blog, adaswriting, which is where I tend to post my original writing as well. Check it out if you'd like! :)


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